


Tyl Regor's Wet 'n Wild Tenno Troubles

by Tridraconeus



Category: Warframe
Genre: (tyl regor's dick), ADJUSTABLE robodick!, Aftercare, Crossfaction, Cum Inflation, Explicit Consent, Fingering, Large Insertion, M/M, Medical Kink, Robodick, Size Difference, Trans Male Character, Voice Kink, belly bulge, kind of, scientist kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: “I have a proposition for you,” he said, finally. Tyl Regor chuckled and Nitzan felt shivers run down his spine and warmth pool in his belly, heat spreading across his face. His thoughts scattered like a school of fish before he gathered them back together again, working his lower lip between his teeth and blinking hard.“Well? Get it out in the open, Tenno. You're leaving me in suspense.”“Intercourse.”





	1. Tyl Regor's Wet 'n Wild Tenno Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Well, we all knew this was coming. Some sort of AU where Tubemen of Tyl Regor never happened, so all Tyl knows of the Tenno is from the Natah quest... Where they were opposed, yes, but at the end of it all Hunhow became the greatest threat.  
> This isn't underage.

“What's this? A Tenno skittering around in my house? I thought you'd have learned your lesson from the last time. Sick things you must be planning, Tenno.” Tyl Regor's voice rumbled over the loudspeaker system. It _was_ sick-- he had to be sick to want this. On a more urgent note, now every Grineer in the damn place knew he was here.

That it was Tyl Regor announcing his presence was better, and somehow worse, than that shrieking alarm. Nitzan frowned and activated Loki's invisibility. The Grineer making eyes-- masks?-- at him looked around, befuddled. They were clones, not a hivemind, and more used to being lab assistants than soldiers in this particular headquarters. Even with the excavation, and even with more recent things. Nitzan didn't want to think about it. 

The salt of Uranus' endless sea clung to Loki's plates and settled in the in-betweens. Cloned, ever-degrading ears couldn't pick it up; Loki's impeccably tuned sensors did. Nitzan ignored the crunch and grind of tiny grains of salt between tough Ferrite plates and kept on, launching and twisting through the air, feather-light landings turning effortlessly into powerful bullet-jumps.

It finally took him to the huge atrium. He'd passed it before, mainly on spy missions, and he was always delighted to punch through the flimsy Grineer vaults, but he was here for something different today. He advanced carefully into the room, stopping underneath the shadow of Tyl Regor's massive statue. The wavering net of light reflected off of the ocean currents dappled the metal, the ground, and it would have made Nitzan feel sick any other time. He ignored it now. 

“What _do_ we have here?”

Nitzan held his hands up in the universal _don't shoot_ gesture. Tyl Regor appeared at the balcony-- how did he _do_ that?-- and looked down on Nitzan, impossibly, effortlessly imperious in a way that made Nitzan's knees weak. He spoke like he expected-- like he _knew_ \-- people would listen to him, do what he said. 

Without a clean way to get his message across while still in the Warframe, Nitzan transferred out. The metal was cool under the suit's boots. The air, too, was clammy, and he felt the pressure of being so far underwater. Still—he was far hardier than a clone, no matter how much war was slopped into their vats. He had the Void to thank for that. He tucked one hand in the small of his back, the other hovering at his waist, and looked up.

“Ah. The fish finally sheds its shell.” Tyl Regor stayed back on the walkway. As unsettling as it was to have the already tall Grineer leering down at him, it was far preferable to standing right in front of him. Nitzan probably wouldn't even reach his collarbones. 

Nitzan briefly caught himself making a rather indignant expression, scrunching his nose and brows, and smoothed it down into more neutral confusion. 

“That doesn't make sense.” _And you know it_ , unsaid but ringing clear in the ocean ambience. 

“As does exiting your shell in a place like this. Why would you? To taunt? To put me at ease with your presence?” 

At that, Nitzan interrupted with a nod. While he didn't necessarily dislike being cross-examined by Tyl Regor like this, he hadn't been able to get a meaningful word in-- and he had words to say, dammit. He didn't often, and liked to think that when he did they were important. 

“An empty peace offering. We both know you can flicker off into the Void whenever you so choose.” 

Nitzan crossed his arms. Tyl Regor wasn't wrong. He liked to have certain safeguards in place-- his Warframe, his amp, and finally the Void when all else failed. Could he be blamed for that?

Regardless of how sound his logic seemed to him, he nodded. Stripped the amp off and set it between Loki's feet, then straightened again and looked steadily at Tyl Regor, hoping he would be satisfied with that-- made a little _so there_ motion with his hands. After so long thinking he was his Warfame and being little more than a mute, obedient soldier, he didn't like to talk. It didn't feel natural. It felt like too much. Maybe he'd been that way on the Zariman too, though. Always quiet, the sort of quiet that allowed his thoughts to swirl and stew. A perfect, silent Orokin weapon. Nitzan was pretty sure perfect, silent Orokin weapons didn’t have thoughts like _I want Tyl Regor to fuck me_ , though, so those old extinct bastards couldn’t keep their claws in him forever. 

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, finally. Tyl Regor chuckled and Nitzan felt shivers run down his spine and warmth pool in his belly, heat spreading across his face. His thoughts scattered like a school of fish before he gathered them back together again, working his lower lip between his teeth and blinking hard.

“Well? Get it out in the open, Tenno. You're leaving me in suspense.” 

“Intercourse.” _Void_. That could have gone better. Nitzan stood there, silent once more, as Tyl Regor stood in a similar state of shocked quiet.

“Intercourse.” Tyl Regor repeated, incredulous. Nitzan shifted from foot to foot, and then decided that putting up a confident front would be more convincing than mincing about like he wasn't _sure_. _Did I stutter?_ , he wanted to say. 

“That's my proposition.” When firing a gun, a steady trigger finger was key. Any hesitation or tentativeness meant a missed shot. Nitzan was, unquestionably, proud of his eagle eye and expertise in hitting what he was aiming at. Hitting _on_ what he was aiming at? Not so proud, and not so confident, so treating this paltry flirtation as target practice could only save his dignity.

Tyl Regor nodded, evidently having come to terms with the odd request. “Hm, I understand.”

Nitzan waited quietly for Tyl Regor to finish the thought-- there was obviously something else waiting behind that mask. “If you are set on this,” Tyl Regor said finally, with the air of one graciously capitulating to an unreasonable demand, “I'm sure we could come to some sort of an arrangement.” 

Nitzan knew enough about dealing with scientists to have already come up with an offer. “You may write down some inquiries, which I will run past my ship Cephalon and return with the answers I am permitted to give.” 

Tyl Regor rocked back on his heels-- stilts?-- and jerked his head at Nitzan. “Prepared little thing. You have until this time in two days on the universal clock to return with what you can offer.”

“I'll see you then,” Nitzan replied. For better or for worse, he'd be back. 


	2. Tyl Regor's Wet 'n Wild Tenno Troubles Part Two: Electric Tubaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you call off your soldiers?” Nitzan wrinkled his nose, rubbing his arms at the phantom pains of bullets. Tyl Regor threw his head back and laughed, which Nitzan really should have anticipated, and he wanted to be annoyed but the most he could muster was a warm, insistent flutter of arousal.  
> “And make it easy for you? No, no, that won't do. You have to earn this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres the FUCKIN

The port closed behind him and he transferred out of Loki, leaving the Warframe staring eyelessly straight ahead. 

“Would you call off your soldiers?” Nitzan wrinkled his nose, rubbing his arms at the phantom pains of bullets. Tyl Regor threw his head back and laughed, which Nitzan really should have anticipated, and he wanted to be annoyed but the most he could muster was a warm, insistent flutter of arousal. 

“And make it easy for you? No, no, that won't do. You have to _earn_ this.”

“I say I earned it by getting you this information.” Nitzan smiled, eager to show he had his own teeth-- always sharp at the canines, somehow seeming sharper still once he woke into himself. He reached into a pocket on his suit and fished out a small datamass. “Induced fit datamass. Put it into anything with a mainframe.”

“Why should I trust you, Tenno? That seems an awfully easy way to infect my labs with a... Nasty virus.” Nitzan both wanted him to shut up and never stop talking. He'd described Nitzan with those words, once, _nasty_ and _filthy_ and _sick_ , all with the underlying understanding that he was dangerous. Some sort of bug to be exterminated. 

Lech Kril threatened to kill him too, though, and he wasn't lusting after him. It had to be something else. Quite possibly multiple somethings, starting with the husky timbre of Tyl Regor’s voice and ending with the inhuman build of his constructed body. 

Nitzan shook the thought out of his head—it was a very nice thought, but he’d rather have the real thing. Currently, _the real thing_ was leering at him. “I don't have a reason to lie to you.”

“Alright,” Tyl Regor agreed, bemused; as though Nitzan would suddenly reveal he was simply waiting for the right moment to strike. “Follow me to my lab.”

Nitzan trotted along at his heels, holding the datamass tightly. It would be the work of a moment to reach out with the transference link and pull Loki to him, to keep him safe and to keep him from having to almost run, but that would sever what thin trust Tyl Regor had in him.

He kept his word; he hadn’t even killed anyone on his run in; and he was _oh, so_ sincere that it ached. 

The workshop was surprisingly barren. Perhaps it wasn’t the real workshop—Nitzan assumed it wasn’t. He wouldn’t take Tyl Regor to his orbiter, and not just because Ordis would scream like a plucked chicken and then probably ground him for the rest of his unnatural life. Tyl Regor gestured at a computer terminal.

“Go on. Plug it in. I want to see what you’ve brought for me.” Tyl Regor lifted a hand, as if to touch Nitzan on the shoulder, and Nitzan was caught between shying from it—ducking under, going for the computer terminal—or letting him, a careless tap at his shoulderblade that pushed him toward the terminal. 

“I was able to get answers for most of your inquiries,” Nitzan offered in lieu of actually saying which ones. It was a very long list, after all. He pressed the datamass to the input and watched it mold itself, transmitting data. One of the screens flickered yellow, then to the light blue of the Lotus. Nitzan felt sick to his stomach, and looked down at the keyboard full of clunky Grineer letters instead. 

“You do understand that this isn’t all business,” Tyl Regor finally said. Nitzan nodded. The terminal _ping_ ed happily. “Grineer don’t reproduce through inconsistent sexual means. I must admit, you threw me for a spin, but I believe I’ve devised a way to make it pleasurable for the both of us.” 

“How generous,” Nitzan sniped back automatically. Tyl Regor laughed, shook his head, exhaled heavily. 

“Oh, it’s not for you. I just can’t bear having my enjoyment be a…” his voice lowered, humming. Nitzan felt gooseflesh break out on his arms and back, a distinct heat blooming between his legs. Did Tyl Regor know? Was this purposeful? By the Void, he’d hate to be a soldier stationed here. He’d never get any work done. “Hm, afterthought.” The terminal _ping_ ed again. Tyl Regor closed the distance, corralling Nitzan between the terminal and his body. Nitzan stiffened and held as still as possible as Tyl Regor tapped at the keyboard, scanning the neat lines of code and encrypted data. None of it vital, or incriminating, but all certainly appreciated by a curious scientist. Nitzan may have talked with Simaris and Suda. May have talked with Cordylon. As many Cephalons as possible, and still some questions were left unanswered. Tyl Regor evidently decided that the answers he’d been given were enough. “Hm. The data’s done downloading. I suppose you’ve done your part.”

At that, he abruptly pulled away and walked across the room. With the push of a button, what Nitzan originally assumed to just be a part of the floor rose up; an operating table? No, not really. Not quite a table either. 

Nitzan decided with some disappointment that Tyl Regor evidently knew next to nothing about _intercourse_.

“Don’t worry. I’m not done.” 

He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized Tyl Regor going through cabinets and pull-out drawers, pulling out both polymer sheets and softer, synthetic fabric towels; then, finally, a larger towel that could generously be called a blanket. The blanket was tossed to the head of the table, the towels following soon after. On top of them went a small tube of lubricant; Nitzan identified it as a comforting mixture of cellulose and carrageenan, the type of lubricant made to be used on a body and not, say, a door. He picked up the tube and felt it, rolled it around in his hands, and finally set it back on the pile of towels. 

“Come here.” Tyl Regor's voice was firm, the confident command of one used to being obeyed; “I want to feel you.”

Nitzan padded over, unsure whether he should strip by now. It was pointless to pretend he wasn't eager. He was already wet-- he felt it against the material of his suit, even though it had been a whole lot of milling around with the datamass and then examining the room. Being pressed between the terminal and Tyl Regor’s respectable chest was plenty enough to get him wet.

As he got closer, Tyl Regor reached to meet him. His hands weren't the talon-like, segmented digits from earlier; these were more humanlike, each one large enough to splay on Nitzan's chest and, fingertips to heel of his palm, cover him from collarbones to navel. 

Nitzan intercepted one hand to examine it, grasping him by the thumb and pinkie to turn it.

“I want to look at it first,” he offered by way of explanation. Tyl Regor obligingly let his hand relax. His palm was covered by a black, rubbery pad; it gave the illusion of what a normal hand should feel like, giving way to tough, latex-covered metal serving as fingers tipped with more of that springy rubber. 

“Fine pieces of work. Not as precise as my purpose-made hands, but these are made for a… different purpose.” With that, he pulled his hand back. Nitzan let it go, looking up properly, eyes hooded and easily pushing aside his previous unsteadiness. 

“Then I want to see how precise they can get.”

Tyl Regor slipped his hands under Nitzan's arms, thumbs remaining in his front and firmly pressing down on Nitzan's chest; not painful, but an insistent pressure. Nitzan squirmed in his grip. Tyl Regor chuckled, warmth in his voice that Nitzan wasn't used to hearing. His face grew hot despite himself-- it was shameful, how easily and how _much_ he was affected. He rolled his eyes and clasped his hands over Tyl Regor's wrists regardless, welcoming the contact. It was simple at first, circles with feather-light pressure, just skimming over his skin covered by the cloth. Nitzan breathed out slowly and tipped his head back. It felt good, but not necessarily arousing. The sensations were amplified by Tyl Regor's obvious mastery over his fabricated digits-- how many neurodes went into making those things?-- and then Tyl Regor skimmed over his nipples and Nitzan crooned, taken by surprise. It was a pathetic little _oooh_ -ing sound, certain parts of him perking up and taking notice.

“Hm. It sounds like you're enjoying this. Shall I do it again?”

He didn't wait for Nitzan to respond before repeating the motion, pressing down and rubbing his nipples through the fabric. The fabric of the suit wasn't coarse, but the weave of it pressed against his skin in a delightful way. Electric pleasure coursed through his body, pooling in his groin. 

He gripped Tyl Regor's wrists and threw his head back as Tyl Regor started rubbing, steady circular movements that caught his sensitive nipples with every rotation. 

“Hm. Feels good, Tenno?”

Nitzan huffed, words lost as he thrust his chest into Tyl Regor's hands again. He thumbed over Nitzan's chest a few more times, watching the way it made his hips twitch, and finally stopped. 

“I suppose you must get that suit off at some point.” 

Nitzan grunted. Why was it so hard to be _sexy_? He seemed a lot more sexy and a lot less awkward in his head-- when he was thinking of this. He'd been thinking of it a lot, recently. 

Tyl Regor walked him back slowly until his back nudged the table. 

“Up.”

Nitzan obliged, Tyl Regor giving him a little boost so he didn’t have to jump. Once comfortably situated, he spread his legs and pulled Tyl Regor closer by his wrists, huffing impatiently.

“Suit,” Tyl Regor reminded him.

“Right,” Nitzan mumbled. He’d been so eager, he entirely forgot that he needed to get his clothes off for that skin-to-skin (skin-to-rubber?) contact. What tough polymers made up the stuff of Tyl Regor’s hands, anyway? Silicon? Nitzan would have to ask afterwards. 

He reached down to carefully unlatch pieces of the suit and take the chestpiece and sleeves off, tossing them behind himself. Immediately, Tyl Regor’s prickling gaze fell to the newly bared expanse of skin.

Nitzan never used to think about his scars. They were just a part of him, first from when he was a child, then from when he was a child again, and now-- well.

They were scars. There wasn't much to do about it. Ripped open again and again, cicatrization interrupted and unnaturally sped, some of them were ugly and stark while others were faded to nearly nothing.

Tyl Regor traced one of the scars-- under Nitzan's pectoral, a half-moon that glowed a light purple, similarly-glowing pits speckled around it. 

“I didn't want them, so I had them taken off,” he explained. Tyl Regor hummed in understanding. Relief flooded him, suddenly, that it was so painless; Tyl Regor noted it and then moved on, dragging his finger against the sensitive skin one more time before tapping pinkie-to-index on his collarbones. Grineer were probably used to that, though, weren’t they? It wasn’t as if their genetic template was diverse. There were bound to be some that wanted something different. Even if it wasn’t exactly what Nitzan had gone through, it was the principle. 

Tyl Regor interrupted his train of thought with a scrub of rubber against his collarbone, skimmed his finger down Nitzan's chest, sternum to navel and then downward. His fingers caught on the fabric of the suit at Nitzan's waist.

“Take it off.” 

Nitzan obliged, pushing down at his hips. Tyl Regor didn't really help but he did drag his fingertips against each new inch of skin, which actually didn't help at all. At the light, firm touch Nitzan bit first the tip of his tongue, then his bottom lip. He shucked off the fabric and scooted back on the table even more, giving space for Tyl Regor to lean—imposing, which Nitzan realized was starting to feed into his arousal more than it had any right to, and closing the distance with his body as well as his hands. Tyl Regor’s hands dipped between his legs to spread them further, guiding his ankles up to the table and forcing Nitzan to lay on his back or otherwise be uncomfortable crunched in half. He fell back finally, admitting defeat and staring at the ceiling. 

As if in reward, one of Tyl Regor’s hands finally left his thighs and brushed properly between his legs. Fingertip newly wet, he dragged a line solidly down the middle. Nitzan’s hips twitched, but he didn’t make a sound yet. 

“Curious.” 

“I can take it in my front hole,” Nitzan replied, hoping that was the question. If it wasn't, well, he could live with being bossy and crude. Tyl Regor nodded and pushed Nitzan further up the table with hands on his hips, letting him stretch his legs out a little bit. 

“Reach up behind you and pass me the lube.”

“Yeah.”

The lube was passed in short order. Nitzan stared at the ceiling a little bit and counted the serrations on the air vent directly above his head. Tyl Regor squeezed some lube from the tube onto his hand mechanically, efficiently, making sure his hand was well-covered before nudging at Nitzan’s hole. 

“That’s cold,” he hissed, and arched his hips up; Tyl Regor laughed at him again. 

“I thought you were one of the Origin System’s most feared operatives, Tenno. Don’t tell me you can’t stand a little cold.” His thumb idly traced Nitzan’s entrance, forefinger penetrating only to the first joint. 

“It’s cold,” Nitzan repeated, but then reached down to scrabble at Tyl Regor’s hand. “Keep going.”

“Pushy, pushy.” Tyl Regor didn’t seem all that put off by it, though—he slowly pushed his index finger into Nitzan’s hole, the lube slowly warming up in the face of body heat. Nitzan had to be boiling down there, it seemed like. The contrast of his own internal heat and the seeming ice-cold of Tyl Regor’s digit wasn’t bad. It was pretty good, actually. It made the backs of his legs tingle, made his back arch. “Be patient. This is precise work.”

Nitzan huffed and let his back lay against the table again. 

“Accommodating enough. How aroused were you before I started stretching you?” 

Right. _Scientist_. Nitzan shifted his hips when Tyl Regor withdrew his index finger, starting to nudge in with his index and middle. The minor stretch grew, but slowly enough that Nitzan saw no need to comment. “Pretty aroused.”

“For how long before, would you say?”

Nitzan’s face heated at the impartial questioning. Perhaps it would be less embarrassing if Tyl Regor wasn’t already knuckle-deep in him, starting to scissor his fingers testingly. Nitzan finally groaned, a low noise in his chest, and squirmed. “Ah—ah, when you pushed me against the console.” 

Tyl Regor slowed his pace, free hand resting on Nitzan’s hip, a silent command to settle. “That far--? That wasn’t even…” his voice trailed off. His fingers crooked idly, mildly uncomfortable pressure that paled in comparison to the accompanying sharp starburst of pleasure. “Oh, _Tenno.”_

He crooked his fingers again and Nitzan keened, hands curling into fists and meeting at his sternum, back arching again. 

“Naughty little Tenno. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” 

Nitzan gave up on clinging to his dignity, dropping his hands and reaching for the ends of the table. “I just, it was close. And I wanted this. And it felt good.” He was babbling, he knew, but all rational thought went completely out the window to be washed away with the tide. Tyl Regor let him carry on, continuing to stretch him slowly, methodically.

Pleasure built like a slowly-coiling spring, kindled by degrees as Tyl Regor scissored his fingers, then pulled out to add a third. The stretch was never enough to hurt, movements slow enough that Nitzan might worry about being coddled. It felt too good for that.

Once Tyl Regor had three fingers in him as far as they would go, he let Nitzan wiggle and arch his hips to get into a more comfortable position; grabbing Tyl Regor’s free hand and guiding it to his hip.

“I keep sliding down the table,” he explained, holding his hand over Tyl Regor’s.

“I see.” Tyl Regor’s hand was big enough that Nitzan was pretty sure if he wrapped it around his thigh, his index and thumb could meet; the thought burned, and his hole clenched around Tyl Regor’s fingers so strongly it sent a chain reaction of spasms, ending with his head bonking against the table. Tyl Regor responded by tightening his grip and spreading his fingers inside Nitzan, hard enough to make him yelp.

“I’m not going to break. You can go harder.”

Tyl Regor tilted his head, thumb rubbing Nitzan’s hip, somehow managing to look both considering and predatory even with the full-face mask. “Do you know what you’re asking for?”

Nitzan reached, curled a little bit to paw at Tyl Regor’s wrist, making a tugging motion that did little to make him move.

“Pretty sure.”

Tyl Regor briefly let go of his hip to push his back to the table again, returning to prop his waist up slightly; fixing an angle, almost clinical if not for the fact one hand was knuckle-deep in Nitzan’s hole. Every little movement rubbed new, hot friction against his walls. His breathing caught, a whine bubbling up in his throat but soon forgotten in favor of a breathy cry as Tyl Regor withdrew his hand, then abruptly plunged back in; stretch and suddenly faster, hotter friction burning his need higher, pleasure that made his vision white out briefly. Or had he just closed his eyes? When he opened them again, he was splayed fully back against the table and crying out, hips abruptly stuttering, hands reaching for the sides of the table to clutch onto them.

He did ask for this, didn’t he? He didn’t regret it, that was for sure. He could feel his voice grow higher and warbling, cracking, pleasure building from a burn to nearly unbearable.

“I’m--”

Tyl Regor slowed. Lifted Nitzan’s hips a little bit as if examining how his hole clenched, dripping slick and lube down his thighs and down Tyl Regor’s hand. 

“Noooo,” Nitzan whined, raising his legs from the table as Tyl Regor withdrew his hand. “Don't stop, I'm so close!”

Tyl Regor chuckled-- a low _ha, ha, ha_ that made Nitzan's insides tremble and weep with need-- and wiped his soaked hand on Nitzan's inner thigh. He slid his hand out from under Nitzan’s hip to bat his legs closed, turning him on his side. “I thought you wanted intercourse, Tenno.”

“I _do_ , I just—fuck.”

“That is the idea, is it not?”

“Fuck,” Nitzan said again, glad that he wasn’t wordless; merely babbling and incoherent.

Tyl Regor slid a hand under him and picked him up, letting most of Nitzan hang so he could sit down on the table. He positioned Nitzan on his lap, somewhat awkwardly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable and Nitzan was high off of the writhing, burning arousal situated firmly in his groin.

“This is an experiment in and of itself, I suppose.” Tyl Regor laughed lowly in his chest, amused at his own wit, and adjusted Nitzan on his lap with hands on his hips. Nitzan squirmed and made a questioning humming sound-- no need to talk right now, so he wasn't going to, especially since he would sound like a fool regardless. His entire face was hotter than a furnace and flushed entirely red, pulse thundering in his temples and in his chest. 

“How long a little Tenno will keep going until he can't take any more.”

Nitzan huffed through his nose and grasped at Tyl Regor's sides. Void, he could barely reach all the way around! Tyl Regor lifted one hand away to reach between his own legs and fiddle around a bit-- Nitzan scooted upwards to give him room, slipping his own hand between their bodies to rub at himself, still wet and mildly aching from the aftermath of the stretching. There was a pneumatic hiss, a wet sound that could only come from the thick water-based lubricant often used to slick doors down in the lab-- but it couldn't be, because Tyl Regor already proved that he knew Nitzan would pitch a fit at it-- and Nitzan expected it to be a short affair, two seconds at the longest. Instead, seven long seconds later, what was evidently Tyl Regor's cock stood in the air behind him. Was it a slow process? Was it just big? Nitzan didn't know. He supposed he'd find out in due time.

Tyl Regor cupped the head and pressed it up against Nitzan's back; it ended somewhere just under his shoulder blades and left a wet imprint of itself whenever it moved. Nitzan could feel little bumps and ridges, equally likely to be a part of the function as to be a purposeful inclusion. The thought of that monster in him was almost too much to bear. How was it all going to _fit_? Nitzan whimpered and uselessly thrust his hips forward, searching for friction, rubbing himself against his fingers but otherwise finding only the barest amount.

“Look at you. We haven't even started and you're already squirming.” 

“It's so big,” he said, helpless to communicate exactly what he thought of it. 

Tyl Regor laughed again and rubbed his palm over the tip of it, pressing it against Nitzan's back. “I made it specially for you, Tenno. The thought of you helpless, consumed by pleasure at my command... It's intoxicating.”

“It's too big,” he tried again, because there was no way that was going to _fit_. 

“Don't worry,” Tyl Regor assured, stroking down his cock with an open palm, fingers dragging along Nitzan's back in the same motion. “I'll adjust it to your... specifications, once we've seen how much you can take.”

“How much can you control it?” Perhaps not the best question to ask to heighten the mood, but despite himself Nitzan was curious. Tyl Regor kept stroking himself-- there had to be some sort of lubrication ports, or something, because there was absolutely no way so much fluid was coming out from the head. Nitzan shivered as the lube dried slowly, helped along by the chill of the suboceanic lab. So: water-based. It was considerably thinner than the cellulose solution drying on Tyl Regor’s fingers but present in a much higher volume. Nitzan thought, briefly, about where he had the space to store all of it; then stopped, because he wasn’t here to theorize. 

“To the highest degree.” Yes, of course Tyl Regor should sound proud when talking about the robotic dick he'd made (apparently) specifically to fuck Nitzan, but he didn't have to sound so attractive while doing it. “A good scientist controls all variables.” 

Despite his original apprehension, the conversation helped to ground Nitzan in the reality that despite what the size of the monster at his back implied, Tyl Regor didn't really want to hurt him. 

“Oh. And am I a variable?” That, he could respond to. He put his hands on Tyl Regor's chest and leaned back against his hand, pressing Tyl Regor's cock against his back again in the process, and tilted his head back to make eye contact. He didn't see eyes, just the lenses of the mask, but his skin prickled and tightened so Tyl Regor _had_ to be paying close attention to him. 

“We have a word for you.” Tyl Regor's hand eased up a few inches to tangle in Nitzan's hair. Lube smeared across the back of his neck and in his hair. It would probably be hell to clean up later, but right now Nitzan didn't care, not when Tyl Regor tightened his grip and pulled his head back. His arousal responded to the tug with pulses of heat and twisting excitement, and he spread his legs a little further apart on Tyl Regor's lap. 

“Aren't you going to tell me?”

Tyl Regor _tsk_ ed. “Impatient, Tenno. Still, I suppose you asked nicely enough.” Nitzan would have scoffed-- he had some respect. “We call you a confounding variable. Fitting, is it not?”

Oh, Void, _science_. At least it sounded like a compliment. Maybe not. Nitzan knew what _confounding_ meant. For scientists like Tyl Regor, it just meant an invitation to pick him apart. 

Nitzan was finding that idea more arousing than it had any right to be. He rocked his hips against Tyl Regor again, chasing the thoughts from his head with a rush of pleasure. 

“Put it in,” Nitzan commanded. He hoped he sounded imperious and not merely horny. 

“As you command.” 

Nitzan positioned himself—knees on Tyl Regor’s thighs, hips canted awkwardly, reaching back to help Tyl Regor guide his cock between his legs and into his hole. It was slow work, but thankfully not painful. Tyl Regor had done a good job in getting him ready, at least for the first few inches of it; he admitted momentary defeat when his body refused to let him take any more, instead raising himself up. The slow drag of Tyl Regor’s cock, the tiny ridges of it and the impeccably smooth joins between each constructed level against his walls burned with delightful friction. Nitzan tilted his head back, groaning, voice shaking as he sank back down. Further, this time. Lower. It was starting to hurt, but the challenge was more than whatever brief pain taking more than he was prepared for brought.

“Naughty.” Tyl Regor shifted him minutely and Nitzan made a high, broken sound as the unbearable stretch somehow intensified. “You know what we do to naughty Tenno, don't you?” 

Nitzan was too far gone to respond with more than incoherent panting; he rocked back to recreate that feeling of complete fullness. Tyl Regor let him. It took another minute for him to get into a slow, deliberate rhythm of raising himself a few inches on Tyl Regor's cock before sinking back down to halfway. 

“Don't _move_ ,” Nitzan breathed, hands shifting down to Tyl Regor's wrists to support himself, then his chest. His legs were shaking with the effort of holding himself up, but going down any further would split him in two. If not that, then it would _hurt_ , and Nitzan didn’t want to know whether the Void would heal him from that.

Nitzan trembled. Tyl Regor supported him, hands cupping his rear to make sure he didn't keel over. His entire lower body felt like it was splitting in two. It hurt, yes, but there were also the slightest ripples of pleasure. Inwardly, he cursed his own impatience, but he still wasn't about to admit he'd bitten off quite a bit more than he could chew when he told Tyl Regor he was ready. 

He knew after a few minutes that there was no way he was getting it all in. He shuffled forward on his knees, pressing himself fully to Tyl Regor's chest with that enormous cock halfway inside of him. Tyl Regor stroked his back. Was he trying to be soothing? Nitzan felt it pushing him forward, could feel that movement jostling Tyl Regor's cock inside of him. How was it even halfway in? It brushed something inside of him that made lighting light up his insides, a strong flash of heat and pleasure. He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, head resting against Tyl Regor's chest. The hand ran slowly up his back to settle across his shoulder blades, thumb rubbing his nape.

“Is that all you can take?”

Nitzan whimpered again as he pressed himself tighter against Tyl Regor's chest and felt the unrelentingly hard intrusion pressing against his walls-- spearing him, making it impossible to move away. 

It was too much.

Still, did he dare take more?

“Yeah-- yeah. It's enough, it's _enough_ ,” he whined into Tyl Regor's chest.

“Don't move,” Tyl Regor instructed. He kept his hands on Nitzan, enforcing it, but Nitzan didn’t plan on moving in the first place; his legs were shaking, and he abruptly noticed that he was blinking back tears.

Nitzan gasped at the new, strange sensation of that massive cock shrinking inside of him from unbearably huge to merely uncomfortably large, losing both girth and length. The nubs and protrusions rubbed against Nitzan's walls with every tiny movement and he keened aloud as the adjustment finalized. He ran a hand down his front, as if to make sure everything was still in place, and instead felt the bulge of Tyl Regor's cock against his palm. He should be horrified-- How was it all in there? How did it fit in before? How did it feel _good_?-- but the mix of endorphins and excitement twisted rational thought into liquid flares of arousal. 

He rocked his hips, the movement considerably easier now that he didn’t feel like he was being split in two; merely stretched to his breaking point.

He finally touched himself again. Pleasure and pressure, inside and out, brought him back to the edge he’d hovered on when Tyl Regor was fingering him. He cried out again, whimpered, squirming back on Tyl Regor’s cock and speeding his movements when he realized he was so close.

“I’m—I’m going to come,” he warned, breathless. Any other time he’d be embarrassed of how thready his voice was. Now, he was too lost in lust to care.

“Go ahead.” Tyl Regor lifted him a bit to help him reposition, hands sliding from under his legs to his lower back. It gave Nitzan more room to spread his legs and sink down on Tyl Regor’s cock, rubbing at himself frantically until the rising pleasure crested. Sharp, and hot, a wave rocking his body. His hole spasmed around Tyl Regor’s cock. Tyl Regor grunted, blunted false-nails digging into his back. As Nitzan’s orgasm was winding down, Tyl Regor obviously was building up to his, after watching Nitzan come with a calculating gaze that still made his shoulders tingle.

“Very good, Tenno.”

He wasn’t ready for that. He whined, grinding down. His insides twitched, pleasure drawn out and making him ache.

“Now… I have a final surprise for you.”

Nitzan didn’t like surprises. Most of them hurt, were usually from people he didn’t like, and involved shooting and killing things, both of which he was very good at but didn’t necessarily enjoy doing.

This surprise he was pretty sure he would like.

“Please,” he whined, hands splaying against Tyl Regor’s chest. With what little post-orgasm energy he had, he ground back on Tyl Regor’s cock.

A small grunt, the first noise that wasn’t perfectly controlled and purposeful, came from Tyl Regor’s throat and he held Nitzan firmly by the hips, pulled him down and kept him there even as he squirmed in surprise. It ground him against Tyl Regor’s base and the feeling so soon after orgasm burned. Still—it felt good. Tyl Regor removed one hand to support Nitzan’s back, hand brushing the base of his head before settling in the middle of his spine.

Heat flooded Nitzan’s insides. If he wasn’t so sure what it is, he might have shrieked; as it happened, he merely moaned and leaned against Tyl Regor, entirely boneless. His legs shook. Tyl Regor’s hand on his back was, at this point, the only thing keeping him vaguely vertical. 

“Fuck—fuck, _fuck.”_ His voice was breathy and weak. The hot flood pressed against him, even more than it had, and it didn’t seem to be stopping. “Reh--” another gush of hot fluid stole his words and he keened, moaned, bit his lip and pressed his face to Tyl Regor’s chest. Tyl Regor petted his back , staying perfectly still as he pumped Nitzan full of whatever semen-adjacent fluid he’d synthesized. “Regor, _Void_. It’s—it’s so much.” 

“You can take it.” Perhaps Tyl Regor wasn’t as unaffected as he’d proclaimed to be. His voice was tight to hide the intensity of his orgasm. Inhuman limbs didn’t shake the way they were supposed to, internal gyroscopes and grav-mags compensating for tiny tremors. Perfect for microsurgery on ruptured blood vessels, or for plucking a single cell from a growing clone; far less perfect for Nitzan wanting to feel how fully he’d affected him. 

Lacking anywhere else to go, the fluid pushed back out the way it came. Nitzan whined as the heat spread from inside of him to his thighs, over Tyl Regor’s lap. When he glanced down it was pale blue and glowing slightly, almost as thick as the nutrient slurry piped to growing tubemen. 

“—is that--?”

Void, why did he have to ask stupid questions? Did he even want to know? Did he even have the energy to care if he got an answer he didn’t like? His belly was pushing outward from the sheer amount of the intrusion, and he didn’t doubt it would come slopping out of him in a great, filthy tide the second Tyl Regor pulled out of him. His post-orgasm brain growled unhappily at the thought; the part of his brain that was still very much enjoying Tyl Regor’s cock in him found it unfairly arousing. 

“Hm? No, a mixture safe for organics.” The _obviously_ was lost to the air. “It should absorb into your system without any complications.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Nitzan didn’t know what else to say to that. There were probably things much better to say than _thank you_. How foolish. He liked sex, and liked getting off, but didn’t like how slow and stupid the aftermath made him; like his entire body was dragging its feet in coming back to him. Void, his arms still felt like jelly.

“Tired, Tenno?” Tyl Regor stroked his back. Nitzan moaned against his chest. “Hm. I expected this,” he proclaimed sagely, and carefully extricated Nitzan from his cock. Sure enough, but slower than he expected, ejaculate slicked his thighs and drooled from his hole. He was sore, but didn’t hurt. He’d gotten worse from the transference link. 

The table was cold when Tyl Regor laid him on it. Instead of whining or complaining he just sighed and reached for the blanket, beaten to the punch as Tyl Regor picked up a few of the smaller fiber towels. 

“I’ll lock the door. You’ll just hack it when you want to leave, anyway.” 

“Yeah,” Nitzan mumbled into his arms. Tyl Regor pushed his legs apart and set to mopping him up. Slow. Methodical. 

“A remarkable subject you are, Tenno.”

“I am fascinating.” Nitzan hoped he sounded coy and not boastful. Either way, Tyl Regor’s hands holding him were firm but not unkind, the movements steady and careful not to hurt, and he felt good. By the time he was fully clean he was dozing off on the table.

“Perhaps we should attempt to… replicate the data, sometime. Every good experiment should be reproducible.” 

Nitzan would have shivered if he weren’t already so exhausted. Still, the thought was heartening. “I would like that.” 

Tyl Regor’s hand fell to his flank, the touch light. Pulling the blanket over him, adjusting it. Not necessarily fond; the air of a scientist setting his lab back in order, like Nitzan was a microscope to be covered and set out of view until it was needed again. 

He could think about the implications of that, and the implications of how comfortable he was with it, later. Right now? The blanket was warm and comfortable, and he deserved the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments much appreciated!


End file.
